


Okay to Cry

by BootsnBlossoms



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Ghost!Allison, Pining, Sad!Lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2358671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BootsnBlossoms/pseuds/BootsnBlossoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t always have to be listening,” Allison sighed, and Lydia swallowed back a desperate whimper at the feeling of Allison’s fingers tracing an invisible path up the side of Lydia’s face. “No one can be vigilant all the time."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Okay to Cry

Graveyards weren’t the same for Lydia anymore. They weren’t the silent, peaceful, respectful places they used to be when she was ten and looking for a place to study where no one would see. No longer were the only sounds here those of birdsong and the whispering of the wind in the nearly ancient oak trees that surrounded the much-too-large Beacon Hills Cemetery. Instead, Lydia now had the faint voices of the dead humming indecipherable songs of sadness in her ear as she picked her way through the headstones.

It didn’t help, of course, that this was Beacon Hills and a disproportionate number of people had died violent, bloody deaths at the hands of horror-movie quality monsters. Even ten, twenty, a hundred years after they’d been buried, some of the voices were harsh, angry, afraid, and  _demanding_.

Lydia was getting better at tuning it out, though. 

With yellow roses in her black-gloved hand, Lydia found the headstone she was looking for with no problem. The Argent family marker was a massive, frightening thing that Lydia hated sitting in the shadow of, a warrior angel with its sword held high over the names of the fallen. Lydia knew most people thought the angel was supposed to be a symbol of protection, but she knew better. It was a symbol of vengeance. 

“You missed one hell of a road trip,” Lydia said, tucking her skirt under her as she sat facing the headstones. “Mexico is probably quite lovely when you’re not walking through it constantly afraid for your life.”

“Did you find Derek?” an urgent voice asked behind her. Lydia gripped the roses as hard as she could manage, letting the prick of thorns through the soft fabric of her gloves ground her. It was hard, not being able to turn around. She’d learned the hard way that if she tried to follow the beautifully clear, strong voice, Allison would disappear like the faint stars you could see only by letting them glow in the far corner of your vision. 

“Yes,” Lydia said, closing her eyes and nodding. “You won’t believe this, though. He was  a teenager again.”

“What?” Lydia felt a breeze against her arms as Allison moved closer. “De-aged? Seriously? That can happen?”

“Apparently,” Lydia shrugged. “Kate had him in… You know what? I don’t want to talk about it.” The whole town of La Iglesia had felt slick like oil to Lydia’s mind while she was there, the ghosts of the dead shrieking at her to leave. But the church was the worst. She’d been having nightmares about it with alarming frequency since they’d gotten back, even though she'd never stepped foot inside. “Derek’s fine now, though. Well, as fine as he ever gets, anyway.”

Allison didn’t respond right away, but Lydia felt a gentle pressure on her hands. “You should let go,” Allison whispered.

Lydia shivered and let go of the roses, thorns tearing through skin and silk as they fell from her grasp. She could feel the wetness of blood as it soaked through her gloves, but the injuries were minor. So, so minor compared the faint coldness of Allison’s touch over her wounded hands.

“I miss you,” Lydia choked out. “At least when you were here, at the end of the day you would be in my bed, warm and ready to make it better. But it never gets better anymore, Allison. It’s just - all the time. Like this, all the time. I want to scream, or cry, or throw things. But I can’t. Because I have to be listening. I have to save people.”

“You don’t  _always_  have to be listening,” Allison sighed, and Lydia swallowed back a desperate whimper at the feeling of Allison’s fingers tracing an invisible path up the side of Lydia’s face. “No one can be vigilant all the time. It’s not healthy. But you know what is healthy? Screaming.”

Lydia chuckled miserably and turned her head towards Allison’s voice, resolutely not opening her eyes.

“It’s okay to scream, Lydia,” Allison continued. “It’s okay to throw things. It’s okay to cry.”

Lydia nodded and felt the tears slip free, rolling down her face and through Allison’s touch as if Allison’s hand wasn’t actually there. Because, of course, it wasn’t.

“Thank you,” Lydia said after a moment, sniffling quietly.

“Any time. Now,” Allison said, her voice taking on a distinctly more mischievous note. “Tell me about Derek as a teenager.”

Lydia wiped the salt from her face and laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Support your friendly neighborhood femslash writers! Don't forget to leave kudos and comments!
> 
> From an anon Tumblr prompt for the "writing angst" meme: "Hello! What about "It's okay to cry..." for 00Q? Or if you'd prefer a femslash pairing, Lydia/Allison? :)" Published over here to test out a Roane surprise:D
> 
> Fic previews, eye candy, prompt fills, and gpoy galore [on my Tumblr](http://bootsnblossoms.tumblr.com).


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